


Picking at Scabs

by JaneTheNya



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneTheNya/pseuds/JaneTheNya
Summary: A rewrite of Akechi's rank 8 confidant. Similar but much, much uglier.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Picking at Scabs

The cloudy, overcast sky hung overhead as Ren made his way down the streets of Kichijoji. Based on his phone’s weather app, it was liable to rain soon, so he kept a brisk pace. His eyes remained glued to the screen, though, reading and rereading the single text he received from the latest member of the Phantom Thieves.

**Goro Akechi**

hello, are u free?  
we need to talk abt something important

The text was a bit… freer than Ren would have expected. When the two first met, it was all formalities. Now that they were on the same team, perhaps he was letting his guard down a bit. But somehow, Ren didn’t feel like that was the case.

“So, what do you figure it is?” came Morgana’s voice from his bag, struggling against the fabric until his small fuzzy head burst free from the zipped compartment. “He knows we’re right in the middle of investigating Sae, and time is of the essence. But we _also_ know he’s hiding a lot from us. I’d be wary about spending too much time alone with him.”

Ren smiled softly, a strange knowing feeling gripping him as he lifted an idle hand to pet his feline companion. “I know,” he said quietly. “And your concern is appreciated.” He sighed, pocketing the phone. They were getting close now. “But somehow, I think it’ll be okay.”

Morgana hesitated for a moment, and silence between the two was filled with the bustling sounds of passersby, rushing to find shelter or make it to their destinations before the storm was upon them. “If you say so,” Morgana finally said, his voice gentle and shaken. “I trust you, Ren. Just be careful.”

Ren paused, stopping dead in his tracks. “I won’t die on you, Morgana,” he said, confidence and determination welling up from some unknown place within him. “I promise you that.”

* * *

Akechi always stood out in a crowd, always kept an odd distance. Stanind under the overhead entrance to an office building, he looked the same as ever. Messy blond hair, a tan suit, leather gloves, and of course, a glistening metal briefcase emboldened with a large initial “A”. He checked his phone idly before noticing Ren’s approach.

“Ah,” he said, immediately giving a strangely sincere and apologetic smile. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. The upcoming storm sort of… slipped my mind.” He chuckled with a surprising sincerity. “Though in a way, it’s kind of fitting.”

Ren crooked an eyebrow. “Fitting? Why’s that?” His body tensed a bit, the hand in his pocket balling into a fist.

“Well, I had wanted to discuss something with you in private…” the brown-haired boy mused, looking around, past Ren and toward a group of onlookers who seemed to be in the middle of recognizing the detective. “But it seems I just can’t get away from unwanted attention.” There was a chilling bitterness to his tone, evident more as he laughed coldly. The more Ren watched his face, the more he could recognize a barely-contained anger in the boy’s expression. He was good at hiding it. But Ren was better at recognizing it.

“This is an unconventional request…” Akechi said with a smile, locking eyes with Ren. “But would you mind taking this little chat to Mementos?”

Ren felt Morgana’s body freeze up in his bag. “Mementos…?” Ren asked so Morgana wouldn’t need to. “You know that’s not just a playground, right? It’s dangerous there.”

Almost instantly cutting him off, Akechi waved a hand in front of his face. “I know, Ren.” The irritation in his tone was barely disguised, almost as if he wasn’t trying. He sighed. “But we’re a competent pair, aren’t we? I’d like to think you and I can handle the risks. Besides… I can’t risk anyone getting in our way.”

Ren took a deep breath. This was not a good idea. In his bag, Morgana squirmed in the other direction to indicate his answer.

“Fine,” said Ren, against every impulse of his body. “I’m in.”

“Lovely.” Akechi’s smile was overjoyed, eager. It was surprisingly earnest, which only gave Ren more cause for worry. “Then let’s get going to Shibuya.”

He began to make his way out from under the covering, before stopping in his tracks. “Ah, one last thing.” He turned back with a fake smile. “I really would like this to be you and I alone. If Morgana wouldn’t mind, I would ask that he stay back.”

The cat in Ren’s bag, caught, wormed his way to the front and poked his head out. “What are you wanting to talk about in Mementos?” he asked, accusing and stern.

“That’s none of your concern,” Akechi shot back, pleasant in tone but firm. “Ren has already agreed to go there with me alone, yes?” His eyes fell on Ren for approval. Ren avoided eye contact.

“Yeah. It’ll be fine, Morgana.” He ran a head along the feline’s head, and leaned in close. “I promised,” he whispered. “I won’t die on you.”

“You better not,” Morgana said, rubbing his face into Ren’s. “Or else there won’t be anyone left to stop me from making fun of Ryuji whenever I want.” Ren gave a small chuckle.

* * *

The atmosphere of Mementos was dreary, unnerving, and macabre. The same as always. The brown-haired boy dressed in princely white clothes walked ahead, red cape fluttering behind him. Ren almost struggled to keep up with his pace, silently following, clad in his thief’s clothing.

“Yes, this is perfect,” Akechi said as he came to a halt. He sounded overjoyed, his voice quivering with anticipation. The two stood alone in the midst of an open clearing of the corrupted subway, a single track to their right with no trains in sight.

“Alright,” Ren said with a sigh. “You brought me all the way here and kept me in the dark. Ready to explain what this is all about?”

“Of course,” Akechi said with a laugh, “sorry to keep you waiting.” As he turned, he pulled a gun from his belt, setting aim on the Fool before he could react. He chuckled, his voice cracking as he did; a hint of madness, a load of anger. Ren’s breath returned a moment later.

“You do remember our deal, yes?” Akechi’s eyes narrowed as his face twisted into a grin. “You finally won a game of pool against me, using my right hand. So now, we have our rematch. We come at each other with everything we have, both of us.”

Ren’s mind took a moment to process that, and when it clicked, he felt a wave of irritation. “This was about our fucking _pool game_?”

“Oh, far more than just that!” Akechi cut him off, his voice louder and angrier than Ren’s mild annoyance could muster. “I’m not interested in playing simple games with you, Joker. In fact, I’m fucking sick of it. I want to fight you with everything I have, and everything you have. I don’t want a rematch at pool. I want to _fight_.”

And then it clicked. “So that’s why you brought me to Mementos,” he said, mumbling, almost to himself.

“Allow me to explain a bit more?” Akechi leaned forward, eyes narrowing on Ren. “You’re something else, Joker. You’re really something else.” He shook his head, standing back up straight. “You’re clever, quick on your feet, and even your strength…” he looked straight up, into the empty ceiling of the cognitive world.

“I hate you.”

And Akechi broke into a laugh, his voice cracking as he struggled to compose himself, doubling over, looking as if he was in pain. “I hate you so _fucking_ much, Joker. You’re the bane of my existence. You’re everything I despise. I hate you, I fucking _hate_ you.”

And he composed himself, taking a deep breath, and righting his stance. “I want to crush you. Selfish, I know…” he shook his head, as if convincing himself the detective prince persona was pointless. It had long since ceased to matter.

“Well?” his eyes were on Ren, hands seeming to shake in their position. “What do you say?”

Ren smiled. He wasn’t going to be shaken, not by this. “Seeing as you’ve got me at gunpoint, I don’t have much choice, now do I?” The other boy’s expression soured. “But I would have said yes either way, actually.”

“Oh, would you have, now?” Akechi’s smile returned. “That is surprising.”

“What can I say?” Ren shrugged, loosening his stance afterward. “I can have selfish wants too, from time to time.”  
  


And in that instant, the gun dropped from Akechi’s hand, clamoring to the floor, and in seconds he was on top of Ren. In one swift motion, his sabre was drawn as he charged into Ren, tackling him to the floor of Mementos with a resounding thud, and thrusting the blade toward him. Barely acting in time, Ren shoved a palm into the other boy’s face, pushing him back. The blade struck the ground of the subway with a clack. Ren kept his strength in his hand, shoving away his opponent’s face, fangs drawn in his open mouth as his eyes glared a hole in in Joker’s soul, finally disrupting him with a kick to the torso. Doubling over, Akechi stood and backed up.

“I see,” Ren said, unsheathing his blade with a smile. “So we’re fighting with intent to kill, then?”

And there were no words from Akechi- just a furious, hateful, terrible scream that pierced the empty world around them, full of malice and anger and so many sheltered emotions, a hurricane in a bottle that had just been uncorked. He dashed at Ren, sabre in hand, and their weapons clashed against each other.

A sweeping kick from Ren to take the boy off his feet. A quick roll back, another attack, a parry, and a shift in stance. Exchange after exchange, tireless clashes between the two. One after another, no ground ceded, adrenaline fueling their every motion.

Finally, Akechi made a small leap backwards, reaching for the crimson mask over his face. “Take this,” he spat. “Get him, Robin Hood!”

Malice fueling his call, the persona materialized in all his gaudy glory. The muscular, birdish man, carrying a glistening golden bow, carefully aimed directly at Ren. The Fool wasted no time, reaching for his mask and ripping it away.

“Arsene!” And the gentleman thief was there, crimson robes flowing overhead, an eerie smile on his face. “Don’t hold back,” Ren commanded. The smile on the demon’s face seemed to curl up further, gleeful as he launched a cascade of purple flame toward his opponent.

Akechi, ablaze in cursed fire, gave no hesitation as he reached for the laser beam on his belt, leveling a blast to throw Ren off his balance, ducking to one side. And then the persona fired, a glistening holy arrow piercing Ren’s coat, barely missing his chest.

“You really are trying to kill me,” Ren said with a laugh, as amused as he was unsurprised.

“Of course,” came the other boy’s reply, holstering the gun and reaching once again to strike with his sabre. “For once, I meant everything I said.”

* * *

They were both clearly becoming exhausted, but Ren could tell Akechi was ceding ground. He’d begun relying less on his own strength and started letting Robin Hood shoulder the brunt of his attacks, but his strength was running low. Ren was running on empty, but he knew he could outlast him. The writing was on the wall.

“That’s enough,” Ren called out. “You can’t win this!”

“Shut up shut up shut UP!” A lunge forward with the blade that Ren dodged with time to spare. A sloppy attack. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Akechi stumbled as he landed, and fell, scraping his knee against the pavement and letting out an animalistic scream. “Robin Hood!” he shouted immediately, the weary persona manifesting above him to fire another attack, malice from his host fueling his every pained movement.

“Arsene, counter it.” Ren lifted a hand to his face and the demonic persona’s wings spread out in front of it, guarding against the arrow which bounced away harmlessly, laning on a tile of the subway and splintering it.

“Strike back,” Ren ordered, almost a whisper. A tornado of purple flame ran through the other persona, shattering it, and wiping over the boy, knocking him to his side.

When the dust cleared, Ren could tell it was over. Akechi was bleeding profusely now, scabs on his knees and elbows, a broken nose, and various bruises. He was scrambling desperately in an attempt to stand, but to no avail.

Ren sheathed his knife. “It’s over,” he announced. “Good match.”

“Go to hell!” cried the other boy. “It’s not done! I’m not done!” He managed to find solid footing, but quickly slipped. “I hate you! I’ll kill you!” He screamed furiously in defiance of some angry god that only he could see, pain and anger and mourning in his expression all at once, a desperate agony, a burning desire to keep fighting. Ren was silent.

“I hate you! _I hate you!_ ” Akechi rolled onto his back, his words slurring into nothing, just enraged screams of protest at a judged unfairness, an injustice, their imbalance of strength striking him as some deeply personal cruelty, a spiteful move against him.

“You aren’t better than me!” His voice was beginning to quiet, even the act of screaming now becoming too unbearable for his weakened state. His weary eyes locked on Ren, his consciousness kept steady only by concentrated hatred, gazing into the Fool. “You’re not.”

Ren remained silent. There was nothing he could say.

* * *

The two walked back in total silence. Neither had anything they could say, much less wanted to. Ren nursed his wounds with an ice pack from his bag, while Akechi carried on in silence, blood still seeping from his various wounds. Ren would have offered to heal him further, but his energy was already low, already running on fumes. He’d used as much healing as he could to recover the damage Akechi had taken. He hadn’t healed himself at all. He’d felt too guilty.

Ren was supposed to be better than the traitorous detective. He was supposed to stick to his guns, keep his morals, he was supposed to be a noble leader to the Phantom Thieves. How could he face them and, with a straight face, tell them that he’d almost killed his friend over a petty squabble? What was, for all intents and purposes, a sparring match?

“This is where we part ways,” came Akechi’s voice, abruptly cutting off Ren’s spiralling train of thought. “My home is that way,” and his neck tilted to motion to a street to their left.

Dried blood still ran across his face, the image Ren couldn’t draw his face away from. “Do you need…” he started.

“Shut up,” Akechi cut him off coldly, producing a handkerchief from a pocket and wiping off his face in a rushed effort. It didn’t seem to bother him as much as it did Ren.

“I’ll only say one other thing,” Akechi spoke, barely-restrained fury in his tone. “I don’t appreciate your healing. I’m not in awe of your sportsmanship or selflessness. And I never asked for your fucking _pity_.”

Ren nodded. That wasn’t what it was, but there was no point in interjecting. The detective would just barrel on ahead either way.

“Your win today was…” he choked, perhaps on his words and perhaps on his blood, wincing from the pain of whatever blow to his body or his psyche had just run over him. “A fluke. A coincidence. Even a one-in-a-million chance is possible.” He scoffed, tearing up as his head jerked away. “I won’t lose to you again. Never.”

“I understand,” Ren said as dryly as he could manage. The way he figured, one of them had to stay composed. Ren felt guilty enough that it ought to be him. He shouldn’t have engaged Akechi to begin with. He knew the expectations the boy placed on himself, a lofty tower that at any moment was likely to come crumbling down, so fragile it was. He knew better, he kept telling himself.

“Let this be my word.” Akechi lifted a gloved hand to his face, peeling it away to reveal the pale, bruised skin underneath. He offered the glove to Ren. “Go on,” he urged. “Take it. For now, it’s yours.”

Ren gripped the glove in his hands.

“Know what that means?” Akechi asked, a bit of mockery in his tone. He seemed to be recovering his ego a bit, at least.

“No,” Ren admitted with a shrug.

“Don’t play dumb with me, you’re not being fucking humble. You’re just irritating me.” The boy’s eyes narrowed sharply on the Fool. Ren couldn’t help but give a sheepish smile. Caught in the act, he supposed.

“The tradition in the West, if I have it correct… throwing a glove at one’s feet to declare an intent to duel.” He gave a grin. “Though I’m not so cruel as to toss it at your feet when your injuries prevent you from bending over, this is meant to be a deeply insulting gesture, so please take it as such.”

His smile faded. “We will duel again, Joker. And next time, it will not be so pleasant.” The image of that gun- very real, and very much not Akechi’s traditional laser blaster- flashed in Ren’s mind once again.

“Yeah,” Ren nodded, swallowing his fears. “I get it.”

“Good.” Akechi turned away, wiping his hair from his eyes. “Until next time.” And he made his way off down the street, one gloved hand still clutching tight to his briefcase, the other in his pocket.

Ren watched him go for a moment before turning away, stuffing the glove into his own pocket.

Across the street, a familiar black and white cat with a yellow bandana made its way down the sidewalk toward Ren, his pace increasing to a run as he noticed the bruises and injuries, hopping toward him.

“Oh my god, Ren. What happened!? I’m so sorry, I knew I should have come with you-”

Ren laughed, and shook his head. “He tried to kill me,” he said with a chuckle. “And then he didn’t. It went pretty well, all things considered.” The joke clearly wasn’t landing, so he cradled the feline in his arms and lifted him- strained, but capable- into his bag once again. “Now how do you feel about getting some shut-eye early tonight, for once I think I’ll agree with you there.”

And the boy and his cat made their way down the now-empty streets of the city. As something occurred to Ren, he looked up toward the sky, the sun now peeking out from behind the clouds.  
  


“Oh,” he noted. “The storm must have passed while we were in Mementos.” And he reached for the phone in his other pocket. “I guess next time I’ll remember to check the weather.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give a shoutout to poichanchan on tumblr whose post (https://poichanchan.tumblr.com/post/631968950263087104/rank-8-but-angrier) was a big inspiration for this fic!  
> I also wanted to thank my friend vane (Daxiefraxie on ao3) who helped me brainstorm a few ideas and, as always, proofread this for me!


End file.
